


Boxing Day

by AvaJune



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Parental Disapproval, Profanity, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 20:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14722865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaJune/pseuds/AvaJune
Summary: No one would think a Weasley and a Malfoy in love was going to be easy, but it's actually only difficult when their families get involved. Charlie tries to find a way to comfort his boyfriend after a particularly arduous Christmas.





	Boxing Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smaragdbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/gifts).



Charlie Weasley took a long gulp of his coffee as he eyed the door to their bathroom with a mix of resignation and annoyance. It was December 26th and like every Boxing Day for the past 5 years, his boyfriend was spending the morning mired in self-loathing and regret. 

 

As usual, Christmas had been an exhilarating gauntlet of barely restrained disdain and pointed reminders of duty to one's family. Draco and Charlie had started the day with an uncomfortable breakfast at Malfoy Manor with the ever-tactful Lucius and Narcissa. 

 

Lucius, for his part, spent most of their time visiting attempting not to stand up and shot 'Blood Traitor!' in a fit of self-righteous pique. The war had thawed the once formidable man ever so slightly, but not so much that the presence of a Weasley at his table and in his home was at all tolerable. 

 

His lightly hidden prejudice was largely preferable, however, to the overt match-making attempts of the Malfoy Matriarch. Of course, Narcissa was careful to acknowledge, there was nothing wrong with one's proclivities and whatever made Draco happy was absolutely fine with her but there was still the matter of the Malfoy heir and was Draco aware that Astoria's husband had passed from a rare flu this past spring? 

 

Quite the tragedy, to be sure, but it was also worth noting, of course, that Astoria was a sensible pureblooded witch who had grown up being privy to the arrangements made by certain members of the gentry. In fact, was Draco aware that Astoria's own uncle, Renald Greengrass, had married a Rosier witch but had always kept a very, VERY close acquaintanceship with Lord Barus Nott? 

 

The shower turned on while Charlie refilled his cup and resumed his vigil, watching the closed door for any indication the man he adored would be emerging anytime soon. He grimaced as he remembered Draco attempting to acknowledge that, yes, Astoria was a lovely person and, yes, she likely WOULD be a lovely mother, all whilst simultaneously politely declining an invitation to an introductory tea so that Charlie could meet his boyfriend's potential wife. The fact that Draco was not at all interested in woman and the act of forcing him to participate in the creation of an heir would be roughly equivalent to sexual assault was something that Charlie had been begged to never mention again after the first Christmas. 

 

Charlie didn't mind not bringing it up. At the time, it had only resulted in an hour-long lecture from Lucius on what it means to be a Malfoy, 'distasteful' obligations and all. 

 

The fact that the Malfoy Family Breakfast was the most pleasant part of the couple's Christmas was a rather depressing reality. 

 

The afternoon and early evening were spent at the Burrow with the entire horde of Weasley children. Mum had blatantly ignored Draco even as she pinched Charlie's cheeks as if he wasn't a grown man and demanded to know if he'd been eating enough. When Charlie gracefully extracted himself from her clutches to loop an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders and remind his mother that Draco was an excellent cook, his Mum's lips thinned to impossible proportions. 

 

"How nice, dear," she had tossed over her shoulder as she grabbed Ginny and Hermione (who had just managed to sneak away from food preparations) and drug them back into the kitchen with the rest of her daughters-in-law. 

 

When the time came for presents, Draco and Charlie passed out their training brooms and chocolates and life size, enchanted stuffed animals amongst the masses of small, Weasley grandchildren and the adults accepted their tidy piles to be opened after the mayhem ended. Every Weasley by blood or marriage (plus one Potter) received the usual jumper embroidered with the initial of their first name across the front. 

 

And as every five years before, Charlie and Draco received the only joint gift; a sweater for Charlie with a large "C" across the chest, and a set of knitted mittens. The mittens had an "M" on them instead of a "D" and were Gryffindor red and gold. It was to no one's surprise an unlikely coincidence that "M" was "W" upside down and that it was never specifically stated who the mittens were for one way or another. 

 

For five years, this was how Draco was 'gifted' a present at the Weasley house. For four years, in a move that made Hermione Charlie's very favorite sister-in-law, Draco also received a much less skillfully knit jumper with a crooked "D" embroidered on the front in silver and green from the youngest Weasley boy's family. 

 

Hermione, Charlie knew from whispered conversations with Ginny, hadn't knit anything aside from those jumpers since she had been attempting to free house elves during the S.P.E.W. years. She never seemed to get any better at it. When Draco would open his present, Molly Weasley's eyes would narrow as if this hadn't happened exactly the same way the previous year, Hermione's chin would rise in the air, and Ron would stare at the ceiling in an attempt to ignore the animosity between the two women in his life he feared the most. 

 

No one ever commented on the situation but Draco, who typically never donned anything without a designer label, wore those poorly knitted jumpers consistently throughout the entire winter and kept each one neatly folded in his bottom drawer after its year was up. 

 

This year Mum had been particularly aggressive with her suggestions that Charlie needed a nurturing influence in his life; someone to clean and cook for him and make him a home. Never mind that for Charlie there was no home without Draco in it, which he reminded her loudly. The Weasley Matriarch just waved her hand dismissively and assured him, again, that she understood that he was still finding himself but he wasn't getting any younger and it was about time to set some roots with a good witch and come back home to England. 

 

That was Christmas with the Weasleys since Charlie had convinced Draco to join him for brunch in Diagon Alley while on a visit home. Mum pretended Draco did not exist and refused to acknowledge that Charlie was never moving back to Britain. Everyone carried on as if everything was completely normal and Hermione unintentionally secured herself a month's worth of the silent treatment from her mother-in-law with her poorly made sweater. 

 

Charlie hadn't wanted to go back after the first year, but Draco insisted family was important. 

 

Charlie agreed, but when he said it, he meant the family he and Draco had made together of the two of them. 

 

The pounding of water on tile ended and Charlie listened to the soft sounds of Draco toweling off, then pulling on his clothing. Silence followed and Charlie waited as 5 minutes, then 10, then 15 minutes passed with no sound from the bathroom. 

 

Charlie grit his teeth and slammed his coffee cup down on the counter. Enough was enough and that man had taken more than enough time to self-flagellate. Charlie strode to the bathroom and pushed open the door, sighing at the sight that greeted him. 

 

Draco stood in front of the large mirror that ran the length of the wall over their bathroom sink. His black trousers hung unbuttoned and low on his hips while an equally black silk button up, also undone, sat across his shoulders. His pale hair had air dried somewhat since his shower but still hung a little damply across his forehead. His toned and lean chest lay almost bare and a fine trail of translucent hair disappeared beneath the zipper of the trousers. 

 

All of these characteristics combined into a picture of absolute beauty that would have had Charlie's breath hitching if it weren't for the pain and vulnerability stretched across Draco's face. This moment of weakness was something that only Charlie would ever be privy to, and rarely at that. He took a few steps into the bathroom and stood behind the man he hoped to spend the rest of his life with, resting his large hands on Draco's relatively narrow hips. 

 

Where Charlie was broad and barrel chested, Draco remained lean and narrow. Even though Draco was tall, Charlie would always be bigger than him and part of him adored the way the other man felt so fragile in his hands. It suited his personality, too. Draco was beautiful to behold but would be so very easy to break unless Charlie was careful. 

 

Charlie was always careful with him. 

 

"The coffee's gone cold while you've been wallowing, you know," Charlie murmured into his lover's neck, smiling slightly when a shudder ran up Draco's spine. 

 

"I'm not wallowing," the blonde man answered with a sad smirk. "I'm remembering who I am." 

 

Charlie's hands tightened on Draco's hips for a moment before he forced his fingers to unclench. 

 

"Just who might that be, love?" He asked, knowing he wouldn't like the answer. 

 

Draco leaned forward and braced his hands on the sink, staring hard at his reflection in the mirror. "To Mother and Father? The Malfoy heir, the only hope for their name, the baby maker. The one who isn't doing his duty. I'm not a politician, I'm not redeeming them. I ran from what they needed me to be, all the way to Romania." 

 

He laughed, a hollow sound that made Charlie's arms tighten involuntarily. "To your mother, I'm a Death Eater. Always will be. If she ever stopped pretending she could see through me, she'd condemn me. And I will never, ever be good enough for her baby boy as long as I live." 

 

"Draco-" Charlie started, but the blonde shook his head and plowed forward with his diatribe. 

 

"Every Wizard in Britain still hates me," he continued with pain filled eyes. "They see the boy who helped murder the Headmaster, the man with the dark mark, the failed and fallen Malfoy. Some still spit when I walk by, others look right through me. They cross to the other side of the street, terrified to be infected with whatever I have that made me go so wrong. Even the old blood purists hate me." 

 

Draco chuckled bitterly and hung his head. "I was even a shit Death Eater-" 

 

Charlie moved his hand up to cover Draco's lips, unable to listen to another word of his self-hatred. It was too much, that this amazing man who meant everything to him should question his own worth so completely. 

 

Charlie leaned down and kissed the juncture where Draco's neck met his shoulder, keeping his hand firmly planted on the younger man's mouth so that he couldn't utter a word of protest. 

 

"Fuck 'em," Charlie breathed into his ear when he raised his head. "Fuck all of them. They don’t know you. Hell, with the way you walk around like you're made of ice, no one knows you." 

 

He smiled softly at his boyfriend in the mirror and brought a possessive hand to rest on Draco's lower stomach, admiring the ripple of hard muscles under his hand. 

 

" 'Cept me, of course," Charlie said with a smirk. "I know you. And I don't give a fuck what sort of shit you did when you were 17 god damned years old and had a wand with a death curse pointed at your mother. Those people who don't want to get too close to you never had Voldemort hold their family hostage or set himself up in their house. They stayed home, stayed out of it, and that's fine." 

 

"Any war heroes treat you like you have something to be ashamed of?" Charlie asked as he stroked down to the zipper on Draco's trousers and gave a quick, harsh pull downwards. "Harry? Hermione? Ron? Any of the other people who were forced to fight a war as children think you're the piece of garbage you like to convince yourself you are?" 

 

Charlie used his hand to push Draco's trousers and boxers down in one go, reaching around to grasp the man's half hard length firmly even as he kept whispering fiercely in his ear. Draco's groan was muffled into Charlie's hand while his own hands gripped the sink even tighter, his face shining with desire and helplessness as he stared into Charlie's eyes through the mirror. 

 

"You don't owe your parents a kid and it sure as fuck isn't your job to fix what your Father ruined," Charlie continued determinedly. "My mother, Merlin bless her, is a small-minded woman with a vindictive streak a mile wide. NO ONE is good enough for her children and we can do no bloody wrong to anyone." 

 

His hand twisted on the head of Draco's cock roughly and the man's eyes slipped closed in pleasure. Charlie squeezed, wringing a strangled cry from the lips pressed into his palm. "Watch me," Charlie demanded hoarsely. "Watch me while I bring you to pleasure you DESERVE, baby." 

 

Draco's eyes opened at the command and he watched as Charlie stroked him from base to tip, over and over as the red-haired man dropped words of his worth into Draco's hair. 

 

"And you do deserve it, love," Charlie growled as he thrust his own erection gently against the cleft of Draco's arse. "They may spit and snarl when you walk the street, but you STILL walk the street. You put your head high and you do what you have to." 

 

Charlie released his hold over Draco's mouth so he could thread his free hand through the fine blond hairs at the base of the man's neck. He wrenched Draco's head backwards and kissed him, swallowing the moan of pleasured pain that fell from his lover's lips as Charlie pulled his hair a little rougher. Draco's eyes were hazed over in pleasure and he was thrusting ever so slightly into Charlie's fist as Charlie wrenched his head back forward so he was forced once again to watch himself be stroked in the mirror. 

 

"Draco, the dragon, MY Dragon," Charlie told him as he sped up his hand, watching as his boyfriend's knuckles grew white from his grip on the sink and his mouth fell open in wordless pleasure. "That's what you are, baby. A FUCKING Dragon. You survive, your skin is thick as god damned steel, and you will burn to ashes anyone who threatens what you value." 

 

Charlie released his hair and wrapped a thick forearm around Draco's waist, ready to hold him up when his knees inevitably buckled when he came. Draco's knees always buckled when Charlie made him come. 

 

"So fuck who you WERE," Charlie whispered fiercely as he watched his lover, his boyfriend, his man's entire body shake as orgasm threatened to sweep him away. "I know who you ARE and I LOVE YOU." 

 

Thick ropes of release spurted from the end of Draco's cock as, sure enough, his legs gave out from under him and his shout echoed through the bathroom. As always, Charlie caught him before he could fall; the red head's palm firmly working Draco through his orgasm until he was spent completely, crumpled against the larger man's chest as the weight of emotion mixed with sex brought him into satiated exhaustion. 

 

Charlie lowered himself to the floor, bringing Draco to rest between his legs with his back to Charlie's chest while he quickly spelled away the mess. His still hard cock nestled between them but when Draco reached a hand behind his back to grasp Charlie through his trousers, he batted Draco's hand away. 

 

"Not this time, Love," Charlie said with a small smile as he wrapped his arms around the smaller man's waist. "This was about you. Do you feel better?" 

 

He heard Draco swallow hard, still uncomfortable with emotion after all these years, before he answered. 

 

"Yes," Draco said quietly. "I feel better." 

 

They sat in silence, simply being in the same space for a few minutes before Draco pulled himself to standing and re-did his trousers. The blonde smirked down at the man on the floor as he began to button his shirt. 

 

"So you say I'm the Dragon, Charlie..." Draco said slowly. "Does this have something to do with some weird roleplay you want to try in bed? Because as a Dragon Tamer, I am concerned about what your feelings may be in reference to a horntail or a longhorn. Are you using me to play out some strange fantasy from work?" 

 

Charlie laughed and winked up at the love of his life. 

 

"Maybe," he answered with a grin. "As far as Short-Snouts go, I think you'd look good in blue."


End file.
